Elfling in the Crossfire Trilogy - SECRETS
by J. Salus
Summary: With Legolas' immortality stolen by the dragon, he struggles to keep up with other elves and a kingdom that treats him like a god rather than a person ... at least by those who don't want him dead. But when a disease threatens to kill him, the kingdom begins a dangerous hunt for the dragon that took everything and King Thranduil walks a dark path looking for a way to save his son.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1: "**Reunion**"

_Author's note: Welcome to Part 2! Reminder to my longtime readers- I love comments. And to my new readers- I love comments. Happy reading!_

Legolas was screaming again. The shrieks woke him with a jolt, panting, sweating, heart racing so hard it may as well just pound free of his body.

He sat in a puddle of his own sweat, small whimpers escaping his throat as he tried to breathe, to reorient himself, but the nightmare clung to him. He always woke like this, though the memories he relived were different. In this one he could still taste the human flesh that the Terkmar Empire forced him to eat in a bone broth, overly sweet and oily. As a child soldier, he had helped skin the dead soldiers killed during the day on the practice plains, helped prepare the meals.

"Long pig," the Terkmar cook would say, a greasy, unwashed man with sores on his face as he skinned the thighs. "We taste like a pig, elf."

The memory, the nightmare, was too vivid. He leaned over the bed and vomited into the bucket sitting there, which was caked on the sides with vomit already.

Legolas shook his head to throw that voice from his mind, to forget the clipped, rough Terkmar language. It had been almost seven years since he wore those chains, since the emperor called him "Dragon Soldier," since he had found his way back home.

His breathing started to calm and the dusty desert and the scorching sun disappeared, the dregs of his nightmare beginning to pull apart.

His room was dim, the white cotton bed sheets tangled around his legs. Since moving to Doriath, the once fallen city of Mirkwood, it had been nice to sleep in a small room with only one window that he could shutter. Those shutters were open now, the window cracked to let in the cool breeze. It tugged at his hair, which only brushed the tops of his shoulders, growing slowly since being chopped off… But being human slowed a lot of things down, even if it made other things speed up.

A kettle whistled from the kitchen outside his bedroom door, which was half open. Warm candlelight flickered over his bare walls. It calmed him to not have decorations, reminders, keepsakes. He liked to look around and see empty space, not the clutter that rattled around his brain.

Someone pulled the kettle off the fire. Hot water poured into a mug and a kitchen chair scraped, creaking as someone sat down.

Routine. It was nice.

With a sigh that he had to get up now, he kicked his legs free of the sheets and let the cool wood floor wake him some more as he stumbled into the common area of the house.

His keeper, Sard, looked up from a book. After studying him for a moment, nodding at whatever he saw, he pushed one of the two mugs across the table and went back to reading.

Legolas sat across from him, pulling the mug close and smelling the steam. Mint. His favorite.

Sard let him sip it for a few minutes before folding down the page in his book and closing it.

_Good morning_, his keeper signed, fingers skilled as they moved.

Sard had brought him back to Mirkwood, his rescuer, his retired black magician. Everything about him was warm and familiar. Safe.

Legolas signed _'good morning'_ back and studied the worry lines pressed into his keeper's forehead. Not for the first time, it hurt to be unable to remember what his voice sounded like. Sard's tongue had been cut from his mouth when he rescued Legolas from Terkmar.

They both lost so much to that place.

_Do you want to talk about it?_ Sard asked, glancing at the bedroom door from under his heavy black brows that made him look sterner than he was.

Legolas sipped his mint tea, wondering what his keeper would say about him eating humans. That would be considered cannibalism now, since he was one himself, since he let the dragon Kagnirrok take his immortality to save his kingdom … six years ago? Really. Time as a human was not the same as when he was an elf.

Instead of bringing up what was painful for both of them, Legolas just shook his head.

Which was just as well, as the door burst open then.

"We're going to be late!" An elleth with fiery red hair that desperately needed combing flew into the house like a wave crashing on the beach, splitting in every direction as the bow swinging from her shoulder knocked over an empty vase on the shelf below one of the windows.

Sard didn't even jump. He just took a slow drink of his own tea and pulled his book open again.

_Do you want tea, Tauriel?_ Sard signed, glancing up at her through his brows.

"Sard," she laughed, grabbing Legolas by the wrist and hauling him to his feet. "Crown Prince Kasslad is arriving this morning. The cadets have to greet him."

She looked so excited that Legolas laughed. Whatever piece of his nightmare that still clung to him was being thrown away by her frantic excitement.

_You remember that Kasslad is his brother, don't you?_ Sard signed, then pointed at Legolas.

Tauriel blinked at them, enormous eyes astounded, then focused on Legolas.

"No, I didn't remember," she said, dripping sarcasm like she was pouring honey onto toast. "I never do because look at how he dresses. This is not a royal elf, Sard."

She disappeared into his room and came back out with the cadet's dark green tunic, shoving it over Legolas' white undershirt.

"Hey!" he shouted, but it got muffled by the cloth, which he forgot to wash from yesterday. It still smelled of dirt and the creek he tripped into. Oh the joys of being human.

"Are you going to help me, Sard?" he asked as she shoved one of his feet into a boot, the wrong one. She huffed and tried the other foot.

Sard took another, louder sip from his tea.

Tauriel brushed her fingers through Legolas' short hair, frowning at him. Legolas just smiled back at her, studying the concentration in her delicate face, wondering why she bothered with him.

Sard knocked on the tabletop. They looked at him.

_Tauriel, you should brush your own hair_, he signed. _You're a sixteen-year-old elleth, not a wolf in the woods._

She huffed at him and then marched for the door, dragging Legolas behind her by the sleeve.

The early morning sun lit Doriath in gold and green. Legolas breathed in the flowers, the dirt, the fact that even after dwarves decimated this place however many millennia ago, the wild elves that saved it made it into something new. They didn't bother coating the marble towers and granite castle in gold again, didn't bother rebuilding the crumbled streets or scrub the charred jade walls back to how it all must have shined.

Instead, he walked on rubble overtaken by moss and grass, crawling with vines sprouting with white flowers. He walked past forgotten towers where birds nested in the highest windowsills and a rabbit colony ran the space. He saw curious brown ears beyond the windows, some scampering around the front steps with white tails and feet jumping out of sight.

Instead, the Kindi and Silvan elves built their own homes and shops out of beautiful oak and cherry wood, where grass and rose bushes grew on the roofs. The old city was a shadow behind the lively city that grew through it.

It was a calm place to be. Legolas lifted his face to the early sun as it pinched through the tree canopy to dance on his cheeks. When his ada decided he needed to live here after everything that happened, it was possibly the wisest action the elven king had ever made.

Never mind that Thranduil had never visited him….

"At least he comes to see you." Tauriel's voice broke through the cotton around his head, the mixture of sleepiness and pain all missed together.

"Who?" he asked, turning surprised eyes on her.

"Kasslad."

He shook his head at her frown, at the fact that she knew what he had been thinking.

"Kasslad always comes to see you." Her hand on his arm was warm and firm, as if telling him she was always going to be there too.

"And you act like it's the first time." Legolas pulled on the end of her long hair hanging by her elbow.

She laughed at him and gave him a shove, which knocked him off balance and into a bush.

"Don't hurt him!" a voice shouted down the road, followed by the muted thump of cloth boots on the grassy cobbles. "Our human-cursed prince is too fragile as it is."

Legolas spat leaves out and tried to shove his way back out of the blackberry bush, its unforgiving thorns long, thin and dug into his cadet uniform, hair and any inch of skin they could reach. He cursed in both the common and Sindarin tongue.

"Good morning, Belven," Legolas greeted, straining to see his friend through the branches.

"Don't lie to me," the healer-in-training snapped, sounding far meaner than he was. Even through the spindly blackberry leaves, Legolas could see his scrunched orange-blond brow which hung over furious eyes like storm clouds.

Tauriel sniffed at him and then reached into the bush, gripped the back of Legolas' uniform and hauled him out like he weighed about as much as a cottontail.

Almost immediately, Belven's hands were on him and his angry muttering has started. Tauriel steadied Legolas under the jarring barrage of his inspection, sharing an eye roll together.

"You can't be rough with him, Tauriel," Belven lectured, biting off some cotton from a roll he carried with him. Typical healer. "How many times do I have to tell you? You shove him, he will one day die because his skin is fragile, his bones are fragile, the very air he breathes is fragile. Valar!"

"I'm an elf, Bel," Legolas reminded, exhausted of telling him again. "I have friends out looking to bring back my immortality, bring back everything. That includes the Balrog Slayer you love so much."

Belven was muttering again, wrapping one of the worst scrapes from the thorns on Legolas' upper right arm. Legolas sighed and let him work, not that Kasslad would be surprised when he saw him in new bandages. Everything hurt him, but he was used to it. He wished everyone else was too.

Tauriel looked down the road, tapping a foot.

"We're officially late," she announced.

"Done." Belven backed up with both hands in the air, checking Legolas over with intense green eyes, frowning as if he was now forever imperfect. Then Belven turned on Tauriel with an accusatory index finger. "Now don't you touch him!"

In the woods behind him, Legolas heard … breathing.

He tilted his head, surprised that he heard anything before the other two did. Then again, they were bickering. Tauriel wanted to run to the lineup while Belven wanted her to walk so Legolas didn't have to run anywhere and maybe trip and crack his head open.

"Do you hear something?" Legolas asked.

They ignored him.

Legolas turned to face the trees, but then a cloth bag shoved over his head and a string pulled tight around his throat. Strong hands pulled him forward then to the side.

"Wait!" Tauriel screamed and it wasn't the playful scream when she and Belven got into fights.

But instead of hearing if she and Belven got away, pain erupted on the side of his head. He expected to fall onto the mossy cobbles or back into the blackberry bush, but instead he just kept falling.

O

It felt like a dream. Legolas heard the Terkmar speech, the rough syllables, the angry, guttural participles. In the darkness of his mind, he deciphered words like "example" and "make him scream."

Frantic hands untied the rope around his throat. What felt like a bag was pulled away, sparking static in his hair.

"Leave this land, dirty humans," Belven warned through the shadows swimming through his head and he winced at "dirty humans." He'd heard that term before, had felt it in his bones. "Do you know who you're crossing right now?"

The answering clap of knuckles on flesh made Legolas jerk out of the spinning black pit he had fallen into. This wasn't a dream. _Valar_, it wasn't a dream.

He blinked his eyes clear in time to watch Belven crash sideways into the dirt, smacking something on a root that cracked and he screamed. That scream drove Legolas up, head tumbling in on itself, but he kept on his feet, kept his eyes forward, and lunged at the nearest soldier, hoping he got the real one of the three.

But his hands clamped around an arm through the black and cream uniform. Legolas snatched one of the loose ends of cotton hanging over the man's shoulder and wrapped it around his neck twice. His mind shut down to instinct, to the Terkmar orders on the training field with the other child soldiers, and he pulled the cloth tight, gritting his teeth.

The soldier's neck snapped with a gross, wet crunch and then his body went limp, suddenly heavy like Legolas was strangling a tree. He fell with it, dust flying up in clouds.

Before he had the chance to look for another soldier to kill, hands grabbed him from each side, restraining him on his knees.

The world spun in a dizzy swirl of color. Cool fingers snaked under his chin, gripping his face like one would a bad dog.

Legolas blinked and fought to concentrate through the ringing pain behind his eyes.

After a few hard tries, the man holding his chin came into focus and so did Belven's arguing. Of course he was arguing.

"Don't you touch him, you dirty scum," Belven shouted. "You aren't worthy to even look at him!"

Legolas' stomach dropped. _Shut up, Bel_, he thought, wishing he could throw that into his friend's skull to make him be quiet before giving anything away.

The soldier in front of him … Valar, it was a Terkmar.

The telltale uniform wrapped around his wrists, waist and ankles, but hung loose everywhere else. Dark eyes evaluated him from over a hooked nose, filled with suspicion. From the scarred lines above his left brow, this was a general.

Legolas cursed at him in Terkmar.

It was a mistake. The second he did, a light went on in the general's eyes and he shoved Legolas' face to the side.

"Show me his back," the general ordered.

"No," Legolas muttered.

More hands ripped at his cadet uniform, rough and a cold blade nicked the back of his neck.

"No!" Legolas screamed at the general, who watched with an intensity that brought back too many memories, the nightmares, the vomiting. He tasted vomit now.

A collective gasp passed between the trees and then the soldiers holding him in place let him go. Boots crunched over leaves as men backed away.

"It's him," one soldier said, sounding both awed and terrified. "It's the Dragon Soldier. We found him."

"But he's so young."

"He was a child when the emperor had him, fool."

Legolas let his head hang, arms useless in at his sides, heart knotted in his chest as a wave of emotions punched through him. He knew what his ripped and cut uniform revealed on his back. Beneath the long and gnarled scars from the Terkmar whips was the dragon tattoo forced on him by the cult that worshipped Kagnirrok, the beast that ruined his life and killed his naneth and oldest brother Oroduil and took his immortality, everything that made him an elf, from his ears to his elven hearing and eyesight. Everything.

_Dirty human_. That's all he was now.

And the dragon rage that used to run in his family was gone from him now that Dekriem was dead, the dragon his grandfather had made the deal with that made his family special in the first place.

He was nothing now. The title that Terkmar emperor gave him was just a lie.

But that tattoo of the spindly dragon stretched from the back of his neck down around his spin and to his hips. He was just happy that his hair was long enough to cover the top of it.

He glanced up then to Belven. His friend held his left arm close as he sat in the dirt, a look of horror on his face as he realized what was happening.

"What do we do with him?" a soldier asked, marching to stand next to the general who had a sickening grin curling up his tanned face.

"We use him against the elves," the general answered. "He'll kill them all for us now. He'll end this war and we'll take him home with us. Terkmar will finally have its Dragon back."

A new horror emptied itself into Legolas' stomach. Since when was Mirkwood at war with Terkmar?

A tear of blood wept from one of the general's eyes. He blinked and dabbed at it, looking at his fingers in shock as more red tears streamed down his cheeks.

A cry of terror rang through the soldiers surrounding Legolas. Some of them screamed at him to stop, begged him to stop, but he kept his eyes on the general, who didn't look away from him either.

"You are cursed," the general said as he folded to his knees. Life evaporated from his eyes as they rolled into his head and he fell forward, inches from where Legolas still knelt.

Belven's heavy breathing was all that remained.

Legolas couldn't look at him, feeling too dirty to look at him. He just stared at the general, trying to understand why there was war, how he didn't know there was war.

"Sard?" he asked and his voice broke.

Gentle footsteps, if footsteps could ever be gentle, came up on his right. A cloak was draped over his shoulders, covering that damned tattoo, and strong hands helped him stand. Even when he was on his feet, those hands never let him go.

"How?" Belven stood, stumbling to the side, looking around at the bodies. "Sard, how did you…?"

"He's the last black magician in Mirkwood, Bel," Tauriel said like it was the most obvious thing in the world, stepping over Terkmar bodies as if they were nothing but logs. "You don't ask them _how_ they do anything."

Legoals finally rose his gaze to his keeper. A well of sadness swam in those dark blue eyes, layered in shadows from those heavy black brows that scrunched together in a worry so encompassing that Legolas couldn't look away, wanting to tell him it was okay and what happened all those years ago wasn't about to happen again … but he couldn't.

_You ada kept this war from us both,_ Sard signed.

O

Legolas let Sard lead him back to their hut, cloak pulled tight over his shoulders. Behind them, Tauriel helped a grumbly Belven.

"Just set the break," Belven told her.

"But it will hurt," she argued.

"It won't heal right if you don't," he said. "I'm not Legolas. This is going to heal fast."

Sard's hand on Legolas' shoulder tightened, as if he knew how much those words hurt even if it was a joke and also true.

The door to their hut was wide open. Legolas stared at it as they got closer and realized when Tauriel fetched Sard, they left in too much of a hurry to close the door.

Before they reached it though, the clatter of hooves made them turn around. The royal caravan was riding headlong toward them, followed by part of the Doriath guard and the cadets they were supposed to have joined to greet his brother.

Crown Prince Kasslad led the charge, pulling back on his palomino steed. The golden horse bandied to the side as he stopped, front hooves kicking out in irritation.

Kasslad's golden hair spun around his shoulders as the wind caught it, his bronze eyes flashing as he took in the blood along the side of Legolas' face and the cloak. He frowned at that and whatever else he saw, though Legolas didn't know what else there could be.

"Brother," Kasslad breathed and swept to the cobbles.

He looked like an old Doriath statue, gilded in his gold Kindi tunic, a gold pendent hanging on his forehead from his gold crown. Even the handle of his broad sword was slatted in gold, catching the sun as it shifted on his hip as he ran.

Legolas was as tall as him now, but the way Kasslad grabbed him with gentle, insistent hands made him feel small and protected, like the six-year-old scared of their ada's dragon rage.

"How long have we been at war with Terkmar?" Legolas asked.

Kasslad's eyes widened, suddenly as broiled as a desert storm across sandy plains. Those beautiful eyes shifted from Legolas to Sard and back again. Understanding melted the shock from the firm edges of his face, settling his brow and lips into a look of regret.

"Since you've been back, little brother," came a sweeter voice, a singsong one that could have made a bluebird jealous.

Legolas looked over Kasslad's shoulder. Atop a dark gold horse who flipped its mane from side to side sat an elleth so stunning it hurt to look at her. Long warm honey locks hung in curls across her chest, her face both familiar and strange.

Though everything about her was pleasant and calm, unnerving blue eyes sharper than any steel pierced right into Legolas.

"It's all your fault, little brother," she called to him, thin fingers running along the reigns in her hand. "Ada has been lost to revenger since the day you rode off to this," she looked around and rose a brow, "_place._"

_Seven years?___Sard signed to Kasslad.

His brother gave a small nod.

"Seven years, keeper," the elleth said, smoothing her riding skirt. "Seven long and ruinous years."

Legolas turned his horror on Kasslad.

"Our sister's back," Kasslad said. "She came back from the Golden Wood a month ago. She says she's done grieving for Naneth and Oroduil."

Celeena. His sister.

He had forgotten he had one.

She smiled at him. By the venom in it, she hadn't forgotten him.

O


	2. Chapter 2

** Chapter 2: Oh, Sister**

_Author's Note: THANK YOU for the comments! Here is chapter 2- would love more comments to hear what you want to have happen, even though I already have things mapped out. Who knows, I might change it up. Happy reading! _

Legolas watched the wash bucket fill with blood.

He sat with his hands in his lap at the dining table as Kasslad sat in front of him, wiping the blood from the side of his face with a wet cloth, soaking it in the now cold water and wringing the cloth out before lifting it again. The once white rag was now pink. Blood splattered Kasslad's once perfect golden tunic.

"A crown prince shouldn't be treating a wound," Celeena scolded from across the table, one elegant arm stretched along the surface, her bell sleeve fanned out as she picked at the fabric.

"It won't stop bleeding, Sard," Kasslad mumbled to Legolas' keeper who stood like a wraith behind him, bronze eyes focused on the wound across the side of Legolas' face like he hadn't heard Celeena at all.

Legolas could feel Sard's presence like one could feel death at a battlefield. Though he couldn't see him hovering right behind his chair, Sard felt like the loudest elf in the room. That was an accomplishment too, considering the huffing and puffing coming from Celeena as her lip curled every time Kasslad wrung out the cloth over the bucket at their feet.

"Doesn't this village have a healer," she asked, waving a delicate hand around the all-but empty dining room. She raised a brow at the furniture made for function rather than decoration, the broken flower vase that Tauriel had knocked over that morning, and the unpainted wooden walls.

"Enough, sister," Kasslad growled, tossing her a glare. "Our brother was almost kidnapped again, by the Terkmar no less. Have some sense to keep that mouth shut."

Legolas stared at Kasslad, surprised. From what he could remember of Celeena, back before the dragon wreaked havoc on their family, she had been gentle and loving. He couldn't think of a time when she and Kasslad or Oroduil didn't get along, but looking at the two now he wondered how they had ever sat peacefully down at a table for a meal. Kasslad ignored most everything she did or said, and when he didn't it was to reprimand her.

Not that Legolas was complaining. She hadn't smiled at him, not hugged him, not shown any affection or pleasure at seeing him again after all these years.

She made him nervous.

In fact, she scared him.

As if hearing his thoughts, those piercing blue eyes narrowed on him from across the table as Kasslad dapped at his wound. It stung, but Legolas was too scared to move, to show an emotion. He didn't know what she would do and didn't want to give her anything to use against him, not that he knew she would.

She raised a honey-colored brow, sizing him up like a horse she didn't like and wanted to return.

Legolas gulped.

Sard shifted and weighed a warm, comforting hand on his shoulder. As if he knew what was going on in Legolas' head too.

"Sard, I'm worried," Kasslad said, bloodied water splashing as the rag was wrung out again. "This might need a healer. He was hit very hard."

Legolas shivered. Sard patted his shoulder.

"That's what I've been saying," Celeena said, smoothing her silk dress. "Funny how you should just listen to me."

"You don't want me touching our brother because he's human," Kasslad snapped, bringing the rag back up to Legolas' face.

He couldn't stop the flinch.

Sard braced his shoulder, letting him know he was there, it was okay.

Kasslad was rough with the rag on his forehead and cheek, dabbing too hard. The rag was icy cold now. Blood dribbled down his face, tickling his skin. Kasslad was snapping at Celeena again, but his words were warbly and muffled. Legolas stared at Kasslad, at his golden hair, his golden clothes, and wondered if their ada was still bothered by how much he looked like Oroduil.

Kasslad leaned forward, those golden eyes wide, gold lashes throwing shadows over his cheekbones. He looked like a very scared statue.

"Get me the healer!" he shouted over a shoulder, hair flying.

O

There was too much fuss. Legolas stared up at his bedroom ceiling, blankets covering him, and a bandage wrapped around his head. He was sure that he looked like a weak human right about now. The Terkmar hadn't hit him hard enough for bed rest. Even as a small elfling, he was hit worse than that and never had this much fuss.

Knuckles rapped on the doorframe and he looked up.

Tauriel wiggled fingers at him in hello, carrying a bundle of wildflowers. Her smile was big but nervous.

He tried to sit up to greet her, but as soon as he got an elbow under him the room tilted too far to the right. His head felt too heavy, like it was being filled with molten lead.

Gentle hands gripped his shoulders and lowered him back onto the pillows. When he opened his eyes, she was smiling like normal, her hair an uncombed mess like she had been running in the woods all day.

Which she probably had been. He turned to find the wildflowers and saw them forgotten on the floor. She must have dropped them to help him.

Glad she was there, Legolas signed hello.

"Hello," she said back and her big eyes filled with tears.

"I'm fine." He touched one as it fell, shaking his head at her.

"I failed my prince, my friend," she said as she settled next to him on the bed, leaning back on one of the pillows. "I'm supposed to protect you, aren't I? You got captured right in front of my eyes and I couldn't do anything to stop it. Belven was able to grab hold of you first, tried to pull you back, but they took him too. Both of you were gone before I even knew what to do."

Legolas reached over to hold her hand, squeezing it because she was being ridiculous. She had known what to do, which was to get Sard.

"I've been with older, better trained elves than you and still disappeared," he said. "This isn't your fault. There aren't that many soldiers who could have stopped the Terkmar, trust me."

She nodded with a sniff, leaning her head onto his shoulder, but he felt her shake as she cried. She still felt guilty.

But he knew nothing he could say would make her feel better, so he just sat there with her and stared at the ceiling again.

O

Sard's heart was still racing.

He stood in the corner of the dining room, arms folded, as he listened to Kasslad get an update from the healer, Riborn, an ancient Kindi elf with animal bones woven in his hair. Not very elf-like to eat meat or wear animal products, but that was Riborn for you.

"He has a concussion," the wild elf told Kasslad who sat next to the wash bucket, staring into it like he couldn't believe what he was seeing.

"He is human." Kasslad wiped his mouth, taking a deep breath. "So what does a concussion mean for humans?"

Sard closed his eyes, fisting his hands under his arms to stop them from shaking. The moment Tauriel had come barging into the house that morning, panic the likes of which he hadn't felt in years barreled into him. When she screamed that Legolas was taken, he saw only red, smelled red if that was possible. When she ran beside him to show him where she had last seen him, and told him they hit Legolas on the head and knocked him out, Sard felt like he couldn't breathe.

Humans were fragile.

Humans could die if you hit them too hard on the head.

Being a keeper for the kingdom's most beloved prince, a damaged, cursed prince was harder than he ever thought it would be. He had to think ahead, protect Legolas from himself, from tripping over weeds or nothing at all. Humans were strange like that, falling for no obvious reason, hitting themselves because they were clumsy sometimes, needing blankets to keep the cold at bay….

But for someone to actually hurt him… Legolas wasn't strong right now.

And damn Glorfindel and the Rivendel twins were still out searching for the dragon that took it all from Legolas.

At this rate, Legolas might be human forever.

He might die human.

Sard couldn't stop shaking.

Then to see the Terkmar … _Terkmar _… ripping his clothes from him, looking at that tattoo, calling him Dragon Soldier again. Sard wanted the soldiers to come back to life just so he could kill them twice.

"… If there is bleeding in his head, we will know soon," Riborn said. "If that's the case, we will have to relief pressure."

"How?" Kasslad asked, eyes rimmed pink as he fought tears.

"We would have to open his skull," Riborn began.

"We should just put him out of his misery," Celeena droned, lounged on one of the dining room chairs like it was a throne, like she was ever going to be queen. She was ahead of Legolas for the throne if ever Kasslad or Thranduil died, Valar forbid, but that was never going to happen.

Sard kicked the wall. The room quieted. Heads turned.

_Why weren't we told that the kingdom is at war with Terkmar?_ he signed, restraining himself from kicking Celeena out of his house.

"Sard, we aren't talking about that right now," Kasslad said. "Legolas is hurt."

_He is awake. He will be fine_, Sard signed. _Why weren't we told?_

Kasslad looked between him and the healer, then leaned forward on his knees. Gold hair swung to hide his face.

"The king didn't want you to know," he said. "After Legolas came to Doriath, Thranduil … he was so angry."

Sard frowned, concerned that Kasslad called his ada by his first name. He wondered if the king's temper was back to how it was before, back when he was hurting Legolas.

"He wants to wipe Terkmar off the map for what it did to his son," Kasslad said.

Sard smiled at that. He supported that kind of war, but it didn't answer his question. He began to sign it again, but Kasslad stopped him with a nod.

"He didn't want Legolas to worry that Terkmar would come after him, didn't want him to feel guilty when elves didn't come back," Kasslad whispered "Thranduil wanted Legolas to have peace, at least for a little while."

Sard sighed. He understood that last part.

_But he is always going to be scared that the Terkmar will come for him_, he signed.

"Not if they are all dead," Kasslad said.

O

The door creaked, jerking Legolas awake. He jumped to see Celeena dragging the rest of her dress into the room before shutting the door behind her.

He sat up, or tried to, but fell back into the pillows. He looked for Tauriel, but she must have slipped out sometime after he dozed off.

Seeing that he was alone, his breathing hitched, feeling suddenly vulnerable. He didn't want to be in a room by himself with Celeena.

His sister smiled, like it was easy for her, but there was something wrong with it. Flipping her dark golden hair over a small shoulder, she walked around the room running her fingers over his dresser. She looked at the dust that came off and sneered before making her way to him, stopping when she spotted his vomit bucket. She lifted the hem of her skirt like non-existent vomit would splatter onto it and then nudged it away from the bed before she sat down.

Legolas tried to sit up again and she just watched him struggle.

"Look at you," she whispered. "An average human. That dragon probably wants nothing to do with you now that it has what it wanted. Immortality and any beauty you once had. Now it might come for any of us in the family, but not you. Did you know you have dirt, right there under your mouth?" She laughed, but not in an amused way. "It looks like you've been eating dirt."

Legolas glanced at the door, uncomfortable and tired. Even as unnerved as he was, he still just wanted to sleep. It made his stomach roll into knots and he tried to sit up again. Sitting up would help him wake up.

Celeena pursed her red mouth like it was funny that he couldn't lift himself.

Gritting his molars, he shoved away from her and propped against the headboard. He gave her a tiny grin, feeling victorious.

A sudden shadow crossed her pretty face and she was on him in a second, a hand on his chest, pinning him.

"You're a little scum, do you know that?" she asked, her pointed nose inches from his. Her breath stank of chamomile and honey, overly sweet. She raised something between them. He couldn't see it well since it was so close to his face, but it glinted like metal. "It was our naneth's. A locket. She wore it every day except the one where she died because you asked her at breakfast if you could see it. Do you see it?" She shoved it closer. "The fact that she is dead is your fault. The fact that Oroduil is dead is your fault. That we have been at war for seven years is your fault."

Suddenly the necklace was around his neck, but not as a trinket. Celeena gripped both ends of the chain, strangling him.

Legolas choked, fingers grappling to get under the cold metal. Anger flicked in her eyes, teeth bared as she put her weight into it, not like she needed to. An elf was already stronger than any human could be.

Legolas felt that strength now, was amazed by it, but still kicked out at her. His knee caught her in the ribs, which offended her more than hurt her it seemed. She bit back a scream and swung the locket around, hitting him in the forehead. It stung but he ignored it, eyes watering, as he stared at her. A younger piece of him was telling him how to brace for another attack, reminding him how to watch her hands.

She lifted one to smooth her hair and he flinched.

She grinned and strung the locked back around her neck, dropping it into her dress. On her, it looked like normal jewelry, not a weapon, not something that could have killed him.

Celeena leaned forward, stroking his cheek.

"I'm going to kill you," she breathed. "For them and for our ada. He won't be free until you're dead either. None of us will be."

She kissed him on the forehead where the locket had smacked him, then turned in a flourish of silk and honey locks.

Legolas let out a shaky breath when the door shut again, but his knotted stomach revolted then. He bent over the edge of the bed to vomit in his bucket as memories of his ada filled his head, made him start to tremble, but the bucket wasn't where it was supposed to be. Bile and old mint tea surged out of his mouth all over the floor, splattering next to the bucket where Celeena had kicked it aside.

O


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3: Frostbitten**

_Author's Note: Thank you for the comments! You know how much I love them. _

Legolas tasted metal as he inched the door closed behind him, releasing a sigh of relief when it didn't squeak. At least, he didn't hear it squeak.

It was still early enough for the fog to wander the Doriath streets, languid like a drunk not sure where home was anymore. Legolas cinched his collar up under his jaw and padded into that fog, hoping if Sard looked out the window he wouldn't be able to see him through the swirling mirk. After Celeena had left his room, Legolas hadn't been able to sleep, didn't feel safe enough to close his eyes.

So when his internal clock told him it was time for cadet lineup, he had no real reason to stay in bed.

His head throbbed under the bandages, which he wished he had taken off and checked in a mirror but it was too late now. A dribble of blood tickled his neck as it sagged from under the wrappings, but he ignored it as he breathed in the thick morning air, heavy with moss and smoke from the early morning fires lit to combat the coming winter. It wasn't here yet, but mornings like these reminded him and everyone else that it wasn't far away.

He stumbled on the cobbles as he got closer to the cadet hut, where the smell of breakfast biscuits and boiled apples made the fog not quite so cold. The hut was thatched, like every building here in Doriath, with a simple wood door that did squeak when he heaved it open.

Chatter overwhelmed him, making him dizzy and his head throb.

"You shouldn't be up." Hands grabbed him and he flinched, throwing an elbow out and catching someone in the nose with a sharp crunch, followed by a gurgled yell.

"I'm just tryna' help!"

Legolas squinted through the swirling lights in his eyes to see Belven, his healer friend. Belven stood looking more than a little pathetic with his arm in a sling, broken by the Terkmar, and now blood weeping down his face between shaking fingers.

"I'm sorry." Legolas helped him sit on a stool nearby, taking off his scarf to stem the bleeding.

"What happened here?" a cool voice asked.

Legolas looked over his shoulder. In front of a crowd of cadets stood Cadet Leader Thranellion, his cousin. He looked like Thranduil, except for the smile and twigs woven into his braids. The glowing ellon drew admiring stares from many of the cadets who weren't busy gawking at Legolas, but that was normal. If they didn't know him well like Belven and Tauriel, they treated him like he was a god made of glass.

It drove him mad.

Belven said something slurred and incomprehensible to Thranellion, spluttering red from around the scarf that hit Legolas in the cheek.

"Legolas is a fighter, we know that," Grinich, one of the cadets, said from the crowd. A boiled apple slice rolled in his mouth as he chewed. "We all saw what he did to those Terkmar in the woods yesterday. You don't want to go sneaking up on him."

"That was Sard," Legolas said.

"You killed one of them," Belven managed to say around the scarf and the swelling in his face. "Snapped his neck like it was a stick."

Murmurs of approval flew through the cadets and hands touched Legolas on the back like they could take a part of his luck and fame.

Legolas glared at Belven, but couldn't for very long. He felt bad for breaking his nose. As if sensing this, Belven gave him a wink.

Thranellion calmed the excitement with two raised hands, the picture of perfection. Legolas sent his glare to his cousin instead, because he would never be so put together and he was their prince, for Valar's sake.

"Finish your breakfast before we go onto the field," Thranellion instructed.

Feet shuffled as cadets broke off and benches scraped as they sat again. The chorus of chatter rose to that same irritating level and Thranellion cupped Legolas' chin with so much elegance he might as well be wearing a crown.

"You should be at home resting, cousin," he said.

"I've had worse." Legolas glared and pulled his chin away.

A sadness crept into his cousin's crystalized eyes, the blue shadowing as if a dragon crossed over them.

"That doesn't make me feel better," Thranellion murmured.

Legolas shrugged and turned back to Belven, who had the scarf angled so he could munch on a buttered biscuit. As Legolas watched him, something shifted in the air. He didn't know what it was, but it sent his skin crawling. It felt like … silence. Things went muted in the room, like the stoves weren't cooking as loudly, clatter of silverware didn't ring so harshly.

Cadets looked at each other.

The door blew open.

"King Thranduil," Tauriel announced, breathless. "He's here."

Legolas peeked up at his cousin, but Thranellion looked just as confused as everyone else. Legolas felt the weight of the room's attention on him. He ignored it, or tried to ignore it.

Instead, Legolas was the first to move. He rose but Tauriel stood in his way, mouth open, eyes huge. Hair caught in her lashes, twitching as she blinked.

"What is it?" he asked.

She moved then, as if she didn't have the words.

He nudged by her in time to see the royal troop stampede through the center of Doriath, right past him. He saw Ada's elk, which made him stand higher than the troop following behind him. His silver hair billowed, only partially held down by his metal crown. Legolas watched him ride around a corner and stumbled back from the rushing of hooves in front of him.

Then, just as suddenly, the troop veered. Not all of it, but the ones that seemed to notice him.

Legolas blinked against the dust, breathing in the cool morning to calm his heart.

He couldn't see through the mist and dust as an elf jumped down from one horse, adjusting a sword at his hip as he marched up to him and knelt. He bowed his head, brown hair falling to hide his face.

Legolas moved forward and then grinned.

"Pelorian?" he asked and laughed.

The archer lifted his gaze and reached out, scooping Legolas against him into a hug, whooping like madness had taken him. As the warrior held on, the other soldiers stepped up from where they had knelt in the fog.

"Leg-o-las! Leg-o-las!" the cheered.

Legolas felt his face burn and looked back at the cadets. Belven bobbed his head to the chant, grinning around the scarf, while Tauriel watched with something close to fear. Thranellion and the others shifted on their feet, more than a little uncomfortable.

"To the savior!" Pelorian shouted with an arm in the air.

The soldiers cheered.

Legolas shook his head.

"Stop it," he urged, pulling on Pelorian's sleeve.

"I haven't seen you in a few months, neth pen," Pelorian said, an arm still pulled tight over Legolas' shoulders. "Let us soldiers celebrate when we get to see our favorite royal."

Legolas stared into those green eyes, at the way his skin bent under his eyes as he smiled. He missed Pelorian, missed Rugon, missed all these soldiers, so he relaxed into Pelorian's side and the archer whooped again.

As the archer looked away to resume the chant with the other soldiers, Legolas saw a dark patch under his ear. It looked like frostbite.

But that was impossible.

He reached out to touch it, because maybe something was wrong with his eyes, but then Pelorian's hand was there stopping him. Those long fingers wrapped around his wrist, so tight it hurt. It hurt too much.

"Pel," he whispered and winced. "Pel, let go."

But when he looked up, a frost coated those eyes and his smile was gone.

It only lasted a moment though, disappearing just as quickly. Uncertainty spread over his face as those green eyes cleared and he let go. Legolas jerked his hand back and rubbed the skin. That was going to bruise.

"Why are you here?" he asked, stepping away.

Pelorian let him.

"The Terkmar are here," he said, sounding faint, looking lost. "We're here to kill them."

O


End file.
